He’s Struggling
by kmm21
Summary: When Klaus first started to take drugs, and when he decided to stop.
1. Klaus Hargreeves

He had three names:

Number Four. Klaus Hargreeves. The Family Junkie.

Of course, rarely did any of them say the third name out loud, but all of them thought it. Even he did, if he got too high.

Klaus was strong willed by nature, always trying to keep up with his brothers and sister - he considered them older despite the fact that they all turned the same age on the same day.

He was strong willed, but ever since he'd been trapped in that dark room with the spirits, he'd been more and more willed towards pushing them away.

The thing, he found, that worked the best to keep the voices at bay, was drugs. At the tender age of twelve, he snuck out of the house and took what little money he had to a seller on the street.

The first time he took the pills, he threw up and felt sick for a week. Grace took care of him, while Ben and the others would pop in periodically when they could get away from their lessons.

Vanya was the one who spent the most time with him; when he asked she played her violin. She played very well for have only started mere weeks ago.

However, Klaus didn't see ghosts for the first two days of that treacherous week.

He went back to the seller the night after the day he was allowed back on his feet, having stolen a golden ring from his father's room and pawned it off for cash.

Klaus bought as much as he could: it had worked the first time and those were the two most peaceful days of his remembered life.

It became a habit.

Steal something, pawn it off, buy drugs, take said drugs, push the ghosts away. Repeat.

The only ghost he either couldn't or wouldn't push away was that of his adopted brother, Ben. Most days, Ben acted as Klaus's conscienceness; as someone to banter with, someone who called him out on his bullshit, someone to tease.

Klaus almost forgot that Ben was dead some days.

When Five came back, Klaus thought that he was hallucinating. It was common, what with his power and being high consistently. But no, Five really was back.

Klaus was happy, of course, but he showed it in his own way. He went and did more drugs to numb the pain that he'd carefully hidden away since Five has disappeared.

He didn't sleep.

Every time Number Four drifted off, his mind was plagued with the dead screaming his name. So he refused to sleep. Though in the bath, he could hardly help himself - he always narrowly escaped Death in the shallow water.

When Four decided to go sober, he felt ill in a way that rivalled the way he'd felt the first time he'd taken drugs.

His skin felt like it was on fire and he was constantly gagging.

To Klaus, the worst part wasn't that he was sick. The worst part wasn't that his siblings didn't care - they just thought he was high again.

The worst part was that he was no longer numb.

He could... feel, hear, _everything_

And he didn't want to.


	2. Kindness Goes A Long Way

Number 4 was special.

They all were, but Reginald never made them feel that way. And though Pogo was eternally grateful for the life that had been given him, this was one of those little things he disagreed with the man's position on.

Four took it the hardest, always trying and trying to live up to the expectations that were set before him, always failing to reach them and always made to feel lesser for it, both by his siblings and by his father.

Pogo had never looked on at the boy in domination, as his first brother did; with cruelty, as his father did; with indifference as his 'little' brother did; with judgement as his 'elder' sister did; with the frightened curiosity his 'younger' sister did; nor with the obligation to which his second brother did; with the friendship Number 6 gave to him, or even with the disappointment the boy was trained to believe he deserved.

No, Pogo watched Klaus with kindness.

He had done nothing to deserve the opposite, and because the boy had hardly any light in his life at all, Pogo gave him kindness.

A smile here, a sweet there, always when his father wasn't watching. A pat on the back for a job well done, a gentle scolding with positive feedback when he did something foolish as young boys often will. Silent praise Pogo hoped Klaus could see in his eyes.

It wasn't enough to deter the boy from his fate of drugs and misery and hard, hard lessons, but still, Pogo was kind.

A gentle hug, rare as they were, went a long way with the touch-starved child, as did a cool cloth on his forehead when Klaus went through withdrawal.

He encouraged the boy when he was down, helped him back to his feet. Asked him, never accused him, when items of value went missing from the house.

Pogo knew the lives the children led. He knew his role in their downfall. He knew the destruction they would one day bring about to the world. But right now, they were children, _just children_, and until the moment he died, he would do whatever it took to ensure that they, especially Number 4, knew, that he loved them.

And that they were special.


End file.
